


Mudblood- An Alternative Start

by ComfortableSilences



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Bullying, Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hogwarts Prefects' Bathroom, Humiliation, Masturbation in Shower, Mudblood, Mutual Masturbation, Name-Calling, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship, Shower Sex, Size Kink, Smut, Transfiguration (Harry Potter), Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29194614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortableSilences/pseuds/ComfortableSilences
Summary: For my darling DirtyMudblood on her birthday!______________________________________________________________________‘I bet that felt bloody good!’‘Yeah, I needed that,’ she said halfheartedly, trying not to think about the grey eyes spitting with rage across the aisle that didn’t leave her for the rest of the lesson. He didn’t watch a single other demonstration. When his friends talked to him, he spoke without taking his gaze from her. The heat from his stare was almost palpable, and she wondered for a moment if the consequences of humiliating him were worse than the joy she received from it.A little paper airplane flew in front of Hermione’s eyeline, drifting down onto her desk with a little flip. She was just about to instinctively look around the room for the sender when she realized exactly who it was from. As she lifted the plane, her heart picked up in her chest, and she carefully unfolded the parchment. On the inside of the note, in an elegant practised hand she saw the words written.You’ll pay for that.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 161
Collections: Fuck Around 'n Find Out





	Mudblood- An Alternative Start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirtymudblood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtymudblood/gifts).



> Warning- This work is tagged as extremely dubious consent and features verbal humiliation. 
> 
> Words cannot describe how much I love you, Dirtymudblood so I have written you 7000 words of pure smut that I know you'll love. Consider this a formal love letter if you wish. This is 1000% based on Mudblood and you can read it as an alternative start if you'd like 😘
> 
> I really hope you love it and I hope you have a great birthday! ♥️🥰

As per usual, he was laughing. Why was it that no matter the occasion, Draco Malfoy always found something to snicker at?

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his curled up mouth, the sharp point of his incisor pressing against his lip while he half-heartedly tried to hold in his laugh. For a moment she imagined it piercing his lip, pushing down into plump flesh until it pushed past his pink skin with a sharp little prick. Perhaps it would wipe the smile from his face. Or perhaps he would just lick away the fat little blob of blood and return to his usual schedule of being an arrogant asshole. 

He knew the exact amount of noise to make, how much breath to release to garner the best response until he was ready to stand in the centre of the light. Just as the attention was waning from him, an enthusiastic breath made it's way up his throat and pushed past the lacklustre grip on his bottom lip, releasing a loud ‘accidental’ scoff into the room.

Everyone turned to look at him. Why was it no matter the occasion Draco Malfoy always found a way to place himself in the centre of attention? His sniffles got bolder and bolder until everyone watched him with one eye, the other focused on Neville trying to undo his transfiguration spell that left Seamus with long floppy dog’s ears. 

As if Malfoy’s grunt was a signal, the low rumble of laughter became infectious. It started with Crabbe and Goyle next to him, who she doubted had the intelligence to find something funny without the approval of their master. Next was Parkinson, who let out slight little snorts from her piggy nose. Zabini didn’t laugh, he rarely did. His assault was a silent one, a sharp pointed smile that showed the pleasure he took in humiliating others. A look from Zabini could often cut sharper than words. And of course, Malfoy sat in the middle of the hub of Slytherins, looking extremely happy with himself as the snickering spread from student to student, slowly contaminating the entire room. 

He even had the nerve to pretend to hide his laughter behind his hand. But Hermione knew that just above that smirk pressed against his cold silver ring was a pair of cold silver eyes searching for who was watching him. 

Hermione felt his gaze moving toward her, so she quickly glanced back to Neville, determined to deny him his satisfaction of catching her looking at him. The moment her eyes fell on Neville and Seamus, a pang of sympathy grumbled up in her chest. Poor Neville was turning a deeper shade of red by the minute, and Seamus was searching around the room so frantically his Basset hound’s ears were quivering at his chin. Their embarrassment only seemed to amuse Malfoy further, because she didn’t even have to look at him to hear the particularly loud hiss that erupted from his lips when Seamus’ nervously wagging tail knocked over a pile of books from the desk behind him. 

‘Mr Malfoy,’ Professor McGonagall’s voice broke out against the rising hum of repressed laughter. With one flick of her wand, Seamus' ears drew back up into his head and the tail sticking tightly to his legs shrunk into his spine. ‘Since you are intent on making a spectacle of yourself, might I suggest you come to the front of the class and make yourself useful.’ 

Neville and Seamus shrunk into themselves, trying to gather whatever dignity they hadn’t lost in the flames of their cheeks. Malfoy did not have such subtlety. He gave Goyle a sly look while he slunk out his chair, as if he could pass some secret snide remark to him. Goyle smiled back as if he understood, but Hermione would guess the only thing Goyle understood was that Malfoy expected a response. Malfoy took his time, keeping the class waiting while Zabini whispered something no doubt poisonous in his ear. 

The Professor stood stoic at the front of the room; her face only mildly unimpressed, but as she watched him swagger up the aisle of students, the grip on her wand tightened. He looked back at his friends to give them one last smirk as he reached the front of the room. He pushed his hands into his pockets and cast a quick wink off to the table of Slytherin girls, and Hermione could have vomited at the flirty eyes and smiles they gave back to him. 

He was insufferable. She could understand what Professor McGonagall was trying to do, but as far as Hermione could see, Malfoy had gotten exactly what he wanted. Now he could lean back cockily while the entire room had no choice but to stare at him. 

Well, she wasn’t going to. For one of the first times during Professor McGonagall’s lessons, Hermione rebelled. She put her chin in her palm and stared at the rain battering against the gothic window, trying to distract herself with the thought of how much rain it would take to shatter the ancient glass. 

‘Miss Granger.’ 

Hermione jumped in her seat, her face flying out of her palm’s hold as she turned to the sound. She looked around to see the entire class now staring at her, including the blonde-haired boy whose lip was raised in a smug acknowledgement of her surprise. She wanted to tilt her head at him, narrow her eyes and purse her lips to show her disdain for him. But the eyes in the room kept her still. 

‘Come to the front, please, Miss Granger,’ Professor McGonagall took a step back until she was standing to the side of her desk, making room for Hermione just in front of it.

She sucked in a deep breath and slid out from her seat, avoiding Harry and Ron’s nervous looks. She slipped past the other students in her row and tried to think what she had done to deserve this. There was nothing she wanted less than to have Malfoy of all people perform a half-transfiguration on her. She didn’t doubt his ability; he was always chipping at the back of her heels, and they were in a constant dog fight for the top mark. She doubted his professionalism. She would likely be sporting a pair of rat ears and a long wormy tail before the end of the class. 

She walked up the middle aisle and refused to shrink to Malfoy’s flashing eyes. He looked her up and down, no doubt trying to picture the most embarrassing animal he could think of. She tilted her chin up higher, and tried to portray strength, even while she was seriously doubting Professor McGonagall’s judgement.

Hermione arrived at the front of the room and stood directly in front of Professor McGonagall’s desk. She took a deep breath and clasped her arms behind her back, forcing her chest out proudly into the air. He felt his smirk boring into the side of her cheek, but she kept her eyes focused on an old wooden clock ticking at the back of the classroom, watching the clock’s cat tail sway back and forth. 

‘Miss Granger, if you would please perform a half-transfiguration on Mr Malfoy into a creature of your choosing.’ 

Hermione watched Malfoy’s smile slide off his face through the corner of her vision and felt it creep onto her own lips. She spun on her Mary-Jane shoes and straightened her shoulders towards Malfoy. She caught him in the middle of his protest to McGonagall, but when he noticed her looking at him, he slammed his mouth shut again and tried to give her a cold, intimidating stare. She returned his hostility with a slight raise of her eyebrows, just like she knew he would give her if their positions were swapped. There was nothing more irritating to someone trying to intimidate you than to be playful back. A lesson that Malfoy seemed determined to reinforce daily. 

She shook her hair from her shoulders. She didn’t need time to think about it. Hermione lifted her wand and thought about the exact creature he reminded her of. If he wanted attention, she would give it to him. With a few choice words, the magic leapt from the end of her wand, just as eager to express its disdain with him than she was. 

For the first second, nothing happened. Malfoy turned his head towards the class, just about ready to scoff at her efforts when his pointy chin rounded out. In a matter of moments, his straight nose pulled out farther from his face, and his pale white skin turned black around his newly formed snout. His ears expanded out to form large round circles around his head, complete with a short blackish-brown fuzz. 

Hermione slowly let her wand arm fall by her side and grinned at the confusion building in Malfoy’s eyes as he searched his classmates’ faces for clues. She looked over to Harry and Ron amongst the sea of unsure faces to find Harry taking his glasses off and cleaning them against his jumper as if he didn’t trust his own eyes, while Ron’s face sported a vacant confusion. He wasn’t alone. All across the room, she heard several whispered guesses, ‘a bear?’ ‘a dog?’ ‘a ferret?’ All of them wrong. It only made it sweeter. Any minute now. 

Just then she caught his eyes on her. She looked at him to see his eyebrows pushed together and his lip curled up around his pointed teeth, ready to snarl. ‘What did you do to me?’ she imagined he tried to say, but all that came out was a frantic high-pitched chortle of a laugh that didn’t match his angry face. 

The room jumped at the sudden noise, and this laughter, too, turned infectious. It started with a small suppressed chuckle rumbling in the back of the room. Malfoy’s head spun towards the noise and he looked around frantically as if to find the original culprit, but it was too late. Even his friends had begun to hide their faces behind their hands, while their shoulders jumped behind them. Zabini didn’t even bother to hide the snake-like turn in his lip. 

Malfoy tried to shout something over at them, but all he managed was an even more frantic screech huffing in and out of his snout. 

‘He’s a hyena! Malfoy’s a hyena!’ In a surprise turn of events, it was Crabbe who spoke first, proudly, as if he were the first to come to the right conclusion. Malfoy jolted his body forward in warning, and Crabbe sat back down next to Goyle, but he was still laughing behind his hands. His outburst set off a chain, and soon the entire room had advanced their hidden giggles into outright laughter. The more that Malfoy protested, snarled and giggled, the more the room laughed back at him. 

Hermione allowed herself to laugh when she saw Ron and Harry’s eyes watering with the extent of their joy. Malfoy’s hands ripped out of his pockets and she caught the movement with her eyes. She met his stare, and he was furious, his attention brought back to the person who caused him such humiliation. There was no one else in the room then, when the anger in his eyes met the wicked delight in hers. She shrugged as if to say that all she had really done was give him the attention he was begging for, and she hoped somehow he would understand. He tried to speak again, and she can tell he wanted to portray a low threatening grumble, but all that came out was another hiccupping giggle.

He shook his head in anger and tried again. He just about managed the words, ‘My father,’ before the convulsions of laughter wracked through his body once more.

Professor McGonagall ferociously cleared her throat behind Hermione, and she could tell that the Professor was barely hanging onto her own self-control. Eventually she pulled herself together, ‘Now, Miss Granger, if you will undo the spell,’ although her voice almost broke at the very end.

Hermione was sad to see the moment pass. One sweet moment of revenge was all she was allowed it seemed, for the years he’s tormented her. She raised her wand up slowly, and stared confidently into Malfoy’s silent rage, ‘ _ Finite Incantatem _ !’ 

Malfoy’s snout and ears shrank back into his head, the dark skin returning to its usual pale. Despite losing his snout, Malfoy did not lose the snarl. His eyes bore into her until she turned away from him altogether and returned to her seat. She felt his feet move behind her, but she knew he couldn’t make a move in front of everyone. 

When she reached her seat next to Harry and Ron, they swarmed around her.

‘I bet that felt bloody good!’ 

‘Did you hear his voice?’ Ron laughed. 

‘Yeah, I needed that,’ she said halfheartedly, trying not to think about the grey eyes spitting with rage across the aisle. Those eyes didn’t leave her for the rest of the lesson. He didn’t watch a single other demonstration. When his friends talked to him, he spoke without taking his gaze from her. The heat from his stare was almost palpable, and she wondered for a moment if the consequences of humiliating him were worse than the joy she received from it. She pushed her curls away from her face and sat up straighter in her chair and decided it didn’t matter. What was done was done. She was Hermione Granger. She was going to face him, and for now she was going to ignore his stares and focus on what Professor McGonagall was saying.

‘Now everyone,’ the Professor’s voice spoke above the rumble of the class, ‘I would like to take a moment to remind you that these spells  _ may only _ be performed in the safety of the classroom,’ she paused for a moment and looked at the glass over the frames of her glasses, ‘I don’t want to be called to the infirmary to any extra tails, ears, or appendages. We will have several weeks of practical classes and then we will be moving on to-’

A little paper airplane flew in front of Hermione’s eyeline, drifting down onto her desk with a little flip. She was just about to instinctively look around the room for the sender when she realized exactly who it was from. As she lifted the plane, her heart picked up in her chest, and she carefully unfolded the parchment. On the inside of the note, in an elegant practised hand she saw the words written. 

_ You’ll pay for that. _

She pouted and crumpled the note up in her hands, looking to Harry and Ron to see if they had noticed. She saw their vacant stares at the Professor and knew they were too busy pretending to be listening. She shoved the note into her robe pocket and refused to look at the boy who wrote it. He would be furious at her for dismissing his threat so easily, but she threw her chin into the air and decided she didn’t care. After all, she had discovered something about Malfoy that no one knew yet. He wasn’t going to do anything about it. 

Draco couldn’t believe she had dismissed him so easily. He could feel his face heat with the amount of hatred he had for the insufferable girl. There she sat, in between the smelly Weasel and Potthead, happily eating and enjoying her night as normal. As if her humiliation of him meant nothing to her. Perhaps she had even forgotten. He stabbed his fork harder into his boiled potato until he nearly flipped his entire plate. Goyle and Grabbe flinched next to him, but the table stayed silent. 

Pansy set down her knife and fork and made to speak. He tore his eyes off bushy brown hair and focused instead on straight black. He forced all of his energy into his stare and found Pansy’s dark eyes slunk back to her peas, and she continued eating without a word. 

He looked back to find Granger’s friends had left her alone at the table. She gave one last wave off to Potter’s little girlfriend as they left the hall before she leant down underneath the table. Draco didn’t know if he should be delighted that she was still stupid enough to go around by herself, or if he should be furious that she was not frightened of his threat. 

She came back up from the table and slammed an irritatingly large textbook down onto the bench. Only Hermione bloody Granger would happily carry around such an intense textbook this early into term. 

Looking at her now, you’d never guess she was hiding such a dangerous secret. That underneath her bookworm exterior there was something else lurking. If it wasn’t his own neck on the line for this secret as well, he could have ruined her long ago. He watched her eat off her fork without taking her eyes off the yellowed book pages. He’d exposed his weakness to her, and now she felt she was above him. Well, he’d have to rectify that. 

* * *

  
Hermione walked down the cold stone corridors and wondered what the hell she was doing, just as she had done every time since the first time. 

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday evening, when most of her friends were outside shivering on a Quidditch broom, Hermione treated herself to a bath in the Prefects’ bathroom. The bath itself was not so unusual, but this was no ordinary bath. 

She closed her eyes and listened to her footsteps reverberate along the empty stone walls, trusting her memory to guide her through the dark. She held her folded towel closer to her body, rubbing her fingers against the soft fibres and pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary about to happen.

She opened her eyes and saw the old wooden door at the end of the corridor. A warm tingle spread across her skin, dancing along her shoulders and arms, warning her to turn back. That it was going to be different this time. But the door kept moving closer and closer, as if her consciousness was merely going along for the ride with her body. She supposed it was a lot like that, and she usually felt the same going in, so she sucked in a deep breath through her nose and arrived face to face with the door. 

She placed a palm on the thick wood, feeling it warm, as if it was inviting her in from the cold. She whispered the password, and soon the door offered a soft click and the pressure of her hand was enough to push the door forward a few alluring inches. 

When Hermione peeked around the door, she found the room had delivered its promise. The bathroom was warm and dry, as if freshly prepared for her, already softly lit by the chandelier, the reflection of the flickering candlelight bouncing off the white marble walls and floor.

She took a step into the room and closed the door behind her. She stared at the locking mechanism, her hand just inches above the metal, as she tried to convince herself she had made the right decision coming here. It was one thing to think about this alone in the comfort of your own room, but it was another entirely to take the last step. In the end, she pulled her hand away and turned her back to the door. She was Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor, a witch, and she didn’t back down to anyone. 

She took her towel and walked to the opposite side of the room. Placing it down on the bench while she pushed her feet out of her shoes. The door was closed, but in her mind it may as well have been wide open when she began to lift her jumper above her head. Just as the woolen material passed over her head, she heard it. A distinct click coming from behind her. Someone had opened the door. 

She froze, breath suddenly hard to find in the room. Like a cornered animal, her ears attuned to the footsteps, tracking their direction as they moved. Within a few seconds she heard water, and she knew it was him turning on a tap in the bath. His usual signal, he wanted her to know he was there.

Hermione pulled the rest of the jumper from her arms and carefully folded it beside her towel. She started on her tie, pulling it loose from her neck while she heard him drop his satchel to the floor on the other side of the room. As she worked on the buttons, she tried to keep her hands steady. Everything about what she was doing was wrong, but that was the joy of it. She couldn’t see him, but she was letting him see her. It was a terrible power unbalance that should have disgusted her, but her heart throbbed in her chest as she untucked her shirt from her skirt and pulled it down over her shoulders. 

She reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, feeling the tight pressure around her ribcage release just as the pressure was building more and more between her legs. She exposed her breasts into the warm steamy air, and her nipples tingled into the exposure. She was almost tempted to touch them, but when she heard his belt buckle jingle behind her, she froze. The sound was a fucking aphrodisiac. She heard his breathing get heavier, and she imagined the soft hair at the base of his stomach moving up and down with his breath as he undid the button and pulled the zip down on his trousers. 

Hermione had to take a moment to breathe as she heard his trousers hit the floor, like a challenge. She slipped her hands underneath the waistband of her skirt and found the start of her tights. She started slowly, pulling both down in a slow and deliberate way until she reached the start of her knickers. She slid her hands underneath the elastic and began pushing them down with her skirt and tights, bending at her hips to give him the best view. If it wasn’t for her nerves, she would have smiled wickedly when she heard his mouth open as her hands brushed against her ankles. But the knowledge of his breath ghosted up the back of her legs and settled between them, wiping the smug look before it could form. 

She hesitated, just for a moment. She let herself live in the moment, feeling his silver eyes stroking up and down her lips, and in a moment of madness, she imagined what it would feel like were it his tongue. As if she had been woken from a daze, she returned to pulling her last garments off from her feet. She set them haphazardly on her neatly folded pile of clothes and rushed off into the shower section of the bathroom. 

She turned on the water and wondered if she had let this go too far. She still wasn’t even sure what  _ this _ was. She hated him. But something felt different for her here, when the most forbidden of exchanges took place. She stepped into the water and wondered why this felt so electric, excitement pulsing up and down her skin, and yet everything she’d ever tried with boys she actually liked felt...flat. 

Hermione ran her hands down her body and wondered if he was watching her now. Were his eyes following the long trails of water curling around her gentle curves? She carefully lifted an unsteady hand and traced along the side of her breast as she thought about the first time. 

_ She’d cut the water from her shower, and through the steam his wanton breaths ghosted across her skin. She’d clung to her chest and slowly turned around, careful not to make a sound and alert her stranger. She wondered if he even knew she was there. She thought she had locked the door; she was almost certain she had locked the door.  _

_ She glanced over her shoulder, and that was when everything changed for her. Sitting on a bench across the foggy room, she could just about see him. Brief glimpses of his body between the clouds. Her eyes drifted down his chest, tracked the quick jerking movement of his arm down to his lap. The heat rushed to her cheeks when she realised whoever he was, he must have been watching her. There was no way he could have missed her, his entire body angled towards her. A lithe muscle in his leg twitched, and one of his legs moved farther towards her. It was then she saw the unmistakable silver eyes through the smoke, shining back at her like cat’s eyes staring through the dark.  _

_ She gathered her hair around her shoulder and quickly turned to face the marble wall. She found her own breath coming faster, dispersing the steam around the wall. That twitch in his leg was unmistakable. He liked that she had caught him. She tried to think, but her mind could only hold on to how far his forearm moved through the fog, how he was watching her. The most unlikely voyeur. Or was she now technically his?  _

_ What could she do now? Run? Shout at him? What would he do if she acknowledged him further? Would he stand up and come over, press her against the wall and… she cut the thought off. Fear pulsing into her bloodstream. But the most shocking thing of all, was how the fear travelled through her veins and settled between her legs. The first beginnings of arousal flooding into her system and picking up rhythm. She wondered what kind of woman she was, that the awakening in her would be caused by fear, and not love.  _

_ Once the floodgates were open, it was as if years of sexual growth flooded her at once. She kept washing as if she’d never saw him, but her nipples strained to be touched, her mind assaulted with images of his long fingers against her skin, rough and demanding. She hid her hand from him at first as it slinked between her legs. She thought about what his fingertips might feel like, pushing their way through the folds to that spot that throbbed for him. She rubbed, and it felt right. It was wrong, but it felt right. The more she thought of him watching her, the less she hid from him. Each stroke only heightened by the knowledge that at any point he might catch her, might come up behind her and stroke for her.  _

_ He stopped hiding his breath, frantic with soft grunts, and she pretended it was because he was watching her rub her breast, watching her hips grind up against her hand for him. A low moan erupted from deep within his chest, and she toppled over the edge, her body bursting into its first orgasm. The years of trying suddenly seemed pointless, the years of pretending she felt anything. As the pleasure coursed through her body, her clit spasming against her fingertip, she held onto those silver eyes, glowing out at her lustfully through the dark, daring her.  _

_ The high soon dissipated, and she found her chest once again filling with fear. She pressed her forehead against the cold shower wall and evened out her breath as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened in her post-orgasm fog.  _

_ When Hermione finally found the courage to push her cheek off the shower wall and turn around, breasts clutched in her arms, he was gone. As if he hadn’t just wandered into her life and given her the first orgasm she’d ever had. She’d skipped her bath that night, dried and dressed herself in a haze while she tried to understand why the person she hated most in the world was the only one with a hold over her. There must be something wrong with her.  _

If Hermione was honest with herself, she still hadn’t come to terms with their unusual arrangement. How he could go from moaning and hissing watching her to smirking and bullying her the next day. How he could so casually laugh and enjoy himself when he had imposed such a state of confusion upon her. But no matter how many times she told herself she hated him, and that she wouldn’t return...she always did. The silver eyes through the smoke haunted her. Every night when she went to bed she saw them, glowing through the dark, watching, always watching. 

She closed her eyes and imagined him on the bench like the first night, the only time she had ever actually seen him. She pictured that pointed incisor tooth digging into the lip he had sucked into his mouth in pleasure. She wondered what his teeth would feel like pressed against her lip, nipping at her neck… She wished she could turn around. She wished she could watch him the way he watches her, to see his eyes move over her body like he owned it. But she kept her back turned, afraid that if she faced him again, the magic of the experience would shatter. And that was her biggest mistake. 

‘I know you know I’m here, Granger.’ 

Hermione’s blood ran cold. She had never heard his voice here before, and he had broken the unspoken rule. She froze, while her heart hammered in her chest, hands halfway through her hair. She gently turned her head to the side as she did before, hoping to move so slowly he wouldn’t know she’d moved at all. When her eyes found the bench she saw him at before, she found it empty. 

‘I know you like it. So no more of these games.’ 

She closed her arm around her chest, the other one draped across her pubic bone. She frantically looked around on the spot, as if he would just magically appear through the jasmine steam. But all she got was a dark chuckle, ‘there’s no point hiding now. I’ve already seen everything you’ve got, Granger.’ 

She took a step forward, careful not to splash the water at her feet. She inched closer to her towel while she tried to pinpoint where Malfoy was. She should have listened to that warning tingle across her skin. Malfoy was obviously serious about his note, and the last thing she wanted was to be naked and vulnerable when he exacted his revenge. 

On her second step, she felt hands at her waist, pulling her backwards. She landed into something hard, and it took her to feel breathing against her back to realise she was pressed into his chest. 

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ his voice vibrated off her ear and travelled down her spine, her body reacting to it despite her mind’s protest. 

Hermione always imagined she would be the type to fight if she was cornered, but when he pressed his hips against her, she stilled. The long hard length at her back stole whatever she was going to say. 

‘I’m not finished with you.’ 

She cursed herself. Even as his hands gripped onto her shoulders and spun her to face the wall, her arousal was forcing its way back to the surface. Her mind told her to tell him to sod off and run, but her body wanted to press back harder against his cock. For once, she decided to listen to her body, pushing herself back against him. 

He hissed as the grip on her arms tightened, ‘Put your hands on the wall.’ 

‘No.’ 

He let go of her arms and pushed her back forward with a strong firm palm. Instinctively she held her arms out to stop her face slamming into the wall, ‘Why do you always have to play so innocent, Granger? You and I both know you want this.’ 

‘In your dreams, Malfoy.’ It might have sounded convincing if she had moved from the position he moved her into. 

He scoffed, and then she felt him touch the inside of her thigh. Her flesh quivered while her arousal awoke tenfold. Hermione’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and she was suddenly glad she was facing the wall. Malfoy’s fingers had barely brushed her skin, but it was as if he had touched a nerve directly. She tried to keep her legs still as his hand crept further up her leg. He moved slow, and she wasn't sure if he was torturing her, or giving her the space to retreat, but she held firm. 

Just as his fingers were about to make contact with her folds, he pulled back, and her body fell a little limp with disappointment. Until she suddenly felt his frame against her back, pushing her face against the cold tiles, ‘disappointed, Granger?’ He mumbled in her ear, while he pushed his thigh between hers, ‘As much as you protest, I know you like this,’ he growled into her ear, ‘Feel how fucking wet you are against my leg.’ As if to punctuate his words he thrust his thigh hard against her. 

Hermione let out an involuntary gasp at the contact, her clit begging for attention so long that it clung onto the pressure, her cunt pressed hard against his leg. She could feel herself wetter than she’d ever been with anyone else; a raging river where there was normally a stream. 

‘You’re a nerdy little bookworm on the outside, Granger. But we both know who you are,’ another tight press of his thigh forced the air out of her lungs, ‘You’re a dirty little slut who likes this. I bet soft old  _ Weaselbee _ never even came close with you.’

If Hermione had of been in her right mind she would have said he almost sounded jealous when he mentioned Ron, but she wasn’t. So she ground harder against his thigh, ashamed at the arousal that flooded her system, but the shame only fuelled the fire.

‘Oh you like it when I call you a slut, don’t you?’ 

‘Fuck you, Malfoy’ she pushed through her pursed lips. 

‘What was that, Granger? You want me to fuck you?’ 

She couldn’t help it, images of him inside of her flooded her brain. The pressure from his thigh wasn’t enough, she could feel the length of him pressed against her ass and all she could think was how it would feel moving inside of her. If Draco’s touch was anything to go by, his cock would feel like nothing she had ever felt before, and now that he had given her the slightest taste of what real pleasure could feel like, she couldn’t pass on the opportunity to learn more. 

Suddenly he pulled his thigh away, and she chased the pressure, drowning in her dissatisfaction. She was used to feeling unfulfilled, but she’d never felt this wound up before. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to spin around and jump him or slap him. Luckily he responded before she had the chance to make a decision. 

She felt something rub across her folds, and her jaw fell open as she realised what it was. The arousal hit her square in the stomach as she pushed back against his cock, pushing it up to rub against her clit. 

Malfoy pulled back completely, and she almost whined at the loss, ‘Tell me you want it, slut.’ 

Her cheeks flamed red, and she seriously considered slamming her foot into his shin. She wanted it, the arousal coating her inner thighs was enough to prove it to both of them, but he would put her through having to admit it. 

‘Say you want it and I’ll give it to you.’

She could fucking kill him. But she heard him pump his hand along his cock, and the incriminating sound proved that he wanted it as much as she did. So reluctantly she mumbled, ‘I want it.’ 

‘Of course you do,’ he said before she felt him line up to her entrance. Part of her wished she could see his face when he entered her, but the other part didn’t want him to see hers. As if Malfoy needed any extra help with his confidence, he was fucking huge. She panted for a moment while she adjusted to the size of him as he slid in inch by inch. She pushed herself back towards him, spreading her legs wider to help accommodate him. 

For the first time since the start of the encounter, Malfoy seemed speechless. His head resting between her shoulder blades while he adjusted to her tight grip. It seemed to take him longer to come around. 

‘Malfoy, move.’ she finally said. Now that they had taken the plunge, there was no point in waiting. She wanted the ache inside of her relieved. 

He began moving slowly, only pulling out an inch or two, but she was glad. Now that he had begun moving he felt even bigger, his cock invading her body and reaching deeper than she thought she could handle. It was a sharp acute feeling when she felt his hips pressed hard against her rear, his cock completely sunken into her. She knew if she wasn’t as wet as she was it would have been nearly impossible to take him. 

But when he pulled back again slowly, and pushed all the way in again, and again it soon started to feel...different. Hermione’s eyebrows crossed, and her mouth fell open when he started picking up pace, little squeaks forming in her throat when he snapped his hips against her. Usually, she barely felt anything any time she’d tried. It was a deafened feeling when she’d been with Ron, like trying to hear underwater, and now for the first time the noise around her was sharp and clear. She couldn’t believe that of all people to make her feel this way it had to be  _ him _ . 

Her little squeaks soon drew out longer as the tension began to build in her abdomen. She heard his breath becoming less even behind her, huffs of breath forcing their way out of his nose every time he pushed into her. 

‘I told you you like it Granger,’ he managed through his thrusts, ‘you pretend you’re so good...but here you are....spreading your legs for me.’ 

He was right. As much as she wanted to be the type of girl who made love, it wasn’t until the person she hated most talked to her like he did she felt alive. She thought about him calling her a slut and her muscles squeezed around him.

‘Oh you like me talking to you like that? Of course you. fucking. do,’ he pushed into her harder, punctuating his dark words with an abrupt thrust. His hand snaked around her hips, and when it crawled down her stomach, she tilted her hips towards his touch. His hand made contact with her folds, and she hadn’t even realised the pressure had been building there too until his fingertips brushed against her clit. An involuntary moan left her lips while he circled around it, the pressure suddenly coming right to the surface. 

‘That’s right, moan for me slut.’ 

The moment the words left his mouth she clenched around him, enjoying the sound of the word on his lips. Suddenly his other hand grabbed onto her throat and pulled her back towards him. She squealed in surprise as his grip stayed firm while he thrust up into her. 

‘I felt that,’ he growled into her ear, his teeth scraping against her pulse, ‘You fucking love it when I degrade you don’t you? Filthy little Mudblood.’ 

That should have stopped everything. She should have told him to stop and been disgusted by what he’d called her. But his hips kept pumping his cock into her, his hand at her throat left her tantalisingly vulnerable to him, and the hard pressure he held onto her clit was too much. He’d called her a mudblood and Hermione somehow exploded. It was abhorrent that the thing to send her over the edge was the same slur that infuriated her for years. Her rage only added to pleasure as it broke out across her stomach in powerful waves. She shut her eyes tight, and tried to breathe through the ecstasy, but the only thing that came out were short tortured moans. 

He held his pace even while his own breath became increasingly frantic at her shoulder, ‘Merlin’s beard, Granger,’ was the last thing he managed to say before his rhythm faltered. His thrusts ran off the basic male instinct to push as far into her as he could while he found his own release just as Hermione was coming to. Reality sunk into her that Draco Malfoy was currently coming inside of her, and the thought only heightened the aftershocks flowing through her system. 

Once they passed, and her breathing began to even out, it hit Hermione what had just happened. She had just fucked,  _ Malfoy _ of all people, and it had the nerve to be the only sex she’d ever managed to orgasm from. She felt his grip on her neck loosen as he came down from his own pleasure, and she took the opportunity to pull out of his grip. 

He winced as he was ripped from inside of her, and the shame Hermione felt when she felt the moisture run down her leg was palpable. She tried to hold her dignity when she walked to her pile of clothes, but the pain of him stretching her only returned now that the pleasure was gone, and her shaky legs were struggling to carry her. She reached her clothes and grabbed her wand, casting a contraceptive charm across her stomach. 

It was all too much, standing around naked in the bathroom with him after what they had done. She set her wand back down on her pile and turned off the running tap on the bath. She slid under the warm water and winced when the water slid between her legs. If it hurt so much now why didn’t it hurt at the bloody time? She powered through the pain, determined to hide her body from his sight under the bubbles. 

Not that he was looking at her anyway. He was standing with one hand pressed against the shower wall staring down at the drain while his breathing returned to him. She looked away before he could catch her staring at the lines of his body. 

She dipped her head under the water and wondered if it was possible to stay down here. If only she had her wand she could have transfigured herself into a mermaid and stay down here until she heard him leave. But she wasn’t and her lungs were already straining for breath before she went under the water. When she arose back to the surface she gasped, rubbing the bubbles from her face before she opened her eyes. 

She checked the corners of her vision for him, he’d moved. He was now re-fastening his belt around his hips, ‘I told you you’d pay for that.’ 

Hermione felt the rage build inside of her chest, the temptation to leave the water and hex him was almost irresistible. But she ignored her instincts and instead flashed him the same cocky look he always seemed intent of giving her, even if he was busy watching his hands push his shirt buttons back into place, ‘It didn’t seem like much of a payback to me, Malfoy.’ 

Draco laughed, and his silver eyes looked up from his shirt wickedly, ‘Oh but it was, Granger.’ Malfoy’s signature smirk crept back onto his features. He looked up to the ceiling and traced his tongue along his lip, as if tasting the words he was about to say, ‘Because now you’ve came all over my cock while I called you a Mudblood slut,’ He fixed his tie into place and through his satchel over his shoulder, ‘and now you have to live with that.’ 

Hermione was speechless as she watched him throw his robes over his arm, turn on his feet and leave the room without another word. She stared at the wood for a moment before she felt the heat burn in her cheeks, rage and embarrassment mixing into a hateful combination. She directed her harshest look at the back of the door. If he thinks that’s the end, he is sorely mistaken. This was just the beginning for him. She is Hermione Granger after all, and a lion beats a hyena any day. 


End file.
